


Poster Boys

by pursuitofnerdiness



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Humor, M/M, Masturbation, POV Katsuki Yuuri, Porn Watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 08:41:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12339297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pursuitofnerdiness/pseuds/pursuitofnerdiness
Summary: First, Yuuri had posters of Victor. Then, while living and training in Detroit, Yuuri finds a porn actor who looks surprisingly like Victor and enjoys those videos immensely. It's a secret he can't keep forever, though.





	Poster Boys

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to storiesinthedark, A_N_D, and Mazarin221b for beta reading!

The door to their dorm room clicks shut, and Yuuri has the room all to himself on a Saturday night. Finally.

Yuuri loves his friend and roommate, Phichit, but he has the unfortunate habit of always doing his homework in their room rather than going to the library like a normal person. It's open 24 hours, as he often reminds his roommate, but Phichit has yet to take the hint. Between classes, practice, his own homework, and Phichit’s homework, Yuuri feels like it's been ages since he had a moment to himself.

He waits a bit to make sure Phichit is truly out for the evening and won't come back to grab something he forgot. Once he’s convinced he’s alone for the evening, it's time for his first order of business: finally getting off after way too long. 

He’s sitting at his desk, laptop at the ready. He can take his time with this, so he starts by sliding a hand under his tshirt and dragging his fingers across his chest to one of his nipples. He closes his eyes and exhales as he circles his index finger around it, spiraling inwards until he reaches the center. He rolls the nub between his thumb and index finger and sighs as he feels it hardening under his touch.

He switches to the other nipple and then slides his free hand down under his waistband of his sweatpants. His dick is starting to twitch as he plays with his nipples, and he wraps his fingers around himself and starts working himself up to hardness. He slides his sweatpants and boxer briefs down for easier access and continues stroking himself.

Once he’s ready for some visual aids, he pulls up his favorite gay porn site on his laptop and loads a playlist of his favorites. “TWINK GETS CUMMED IN” starts playing, and the participants waste no time in getting started. It’s a short video, only a minute and a half, and Yuuri watches a dick slam repeatedly into an ass until come dribbles out of it. He feels less enthused than usual. Next up: “Cute cum-slut gets facial.” But this blowjob is taking ages, and Yuuri’s just not feeling it tonight, no matter how much he usually enjoys comeplay.

With a frustrated groan, he pushes back from his desk and lets his head drop back. This really shouldn't be so difficult, and yet it is. And then, as he lifts his head back up, he sees the single poster of Victor Nikiforov he has hanging up above his desk and he suddenly has a terrible, awful, shameful idea and he absolutely should not go through with this.

He types “platinum blond getting pounded" into the site's search bar and hits enter anyway. Oh my god, he's really doing this. Masturbating to fantasies in front of posters of the man was one thing, but this is verging on creepy.

Yuuri scrolls through the search results and finds a video that sounds at least somewhat acceptable: “Hung Top Pounds Blond Bottom Hard and Fast.” The video loads and Hung Top appears, a generic brown-haired white dude supposedly with a huge cock underneath those jeans.

Yuuri’s jaw drops as he sees the second actor walk into the shot. He's got stunning blue eyes and platinum blond hair with bangs hanging over one eye. (The wrong eye, but still.) And his face. He looks… almost exactly like Victor Nikiforov.

Yuuri pauses the video because this cannot possibly be happening. It’s not actually Victor, of course; he’s sure of that.  _ He _ can tell the difference, but frankly, his dick can’t, and he’s hard just at the sight of a shirtless Victor lookalike. This is definitely probably kind of wrong, and he should absolutely close that tab and forget about this video forever.

Instead, he clicks play, and the video jumps from scene to scene in the way that all these free preview porn videos do. (He’s a college student. It’s not like he can afford to  _ pay _ for porn when he’s got tuition and coaching fees.) Hung Top and Not-Victor are kissing, running their hands along each other’s sides, and then Hung Top is kissing and sucking on Not-Victor’s neck as Yuuri’s crappy laptop speakers broadcast the accompanying wet sounds. He grabs some lotion from his desk and squeezes a glob onto his right hand. He takes his cock in his hand and shudders to the sound of moans playing out his speakers.

The video transitions to Not-Victor sucking Hung Top’s dick. (Yes, the name is accurate.) Hung Top pets the back of Not-Victor’s head as he swallows down as much as he can handle, which admittedly is not all of that very large dick. Not-Victor pulls back, lapping at the head with his tongue as Hung Top murmurs encouragements.

Yuuri’s eyes flutter closed, and he imagines that the wet, sucking sounds he hears are from actual Victor sucking his dick, and he’s whimpering as he strokes himself. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He’s gotten himself off to this particular fantasy dozens of times, but this time, it’s hitting him harder than it ever has before. He runs a finger along his slit, gathering up the precome he’s already leaking and rubbing it on the sensitive spot right under the head, and just like that, pleasure is buzzing along his nerves. He leans forward and moans, because it’s so, so good and he can’t help himself. He’s panting, eyes squeezed shut, and he desperately needs more.

“You like my cock?” Hung Top asks, and Not-Victor replies, “Fuck yeah.” And of course Yuuri is imagining Victor saying he likes Yuuri’s cock and oh, fuck.

He opens his eyes again and the scene changes. Not-Victor is on his back, thighs pulled back to his chest, lube dripping out of his fluttering hole, which the camera has so kindly zoomed in on. Hung Top rubs the head of his dick against Not-Victor’s entrance, and they’re both huffing out semi-disinterested moans, but Yuuri doesn’t care. He can feel himself flushing all over, can feel himself beginning to sweat under his shirt as waves of heat roll through his body as he imagines himself doing the same to Victor. He’s still stroking himself, hand twisting along the length of his cock as his body tingles with pleasure.

And as Hung Top slides into Not-Victor, Yuuri’s orgasm knocks the air out of him like a wave crashing unexpectedly into his back, and he comes all over his hand before he can really process what just happened. He looks down at his lap and the hot, sticky mess in his hand and blinks. Well, fuck. What the actual fuck.

He has a fucking problem.

He’s only two minutes into the five minute video. Phichit will be out for hours yet. Well, perhaps this isn’t so much a problem as an opportunity. He can usually get it up again after only a few minutes.

He finishes that video, comes again, and then starts working his way through the rest of Sergei’s extensive catalog. Yuuri has an  _ excellent  _ Saturday night. 

(And a new favorite porn actor whose back catalog he hunts down with a single-minded determination that he usually reserves for skating. And now he’s the kind of person who has a favorite porn actor, so, oh god.)

 

* * *

 

_ Years later, St. Petersburg. _

Victor walks into their apartment clutching a bundle of mail and a cardboard tube. “Yuuri! You got a package from your mom!”

Yuuri looks up. He’s on the couch, petting Makkachin with one hand and scrolling through Instagram with the other. He’d come home from practice, showered, and plopped down on the couch to decompress until Victor got home from his own practice. “Oh, thanks!” he says as Victor hands him the tube. He looks down at a very comfortable Makkachin in his lap and then looks back up at Victor, who’s peeling off his coat and taking off his shoes. When he’s finished, Yuuri asks, “Could you please bring me some scissors? I can’t get up.”

Victor laughs and gives Makkachin a pat on the head. “Sure, I’ll open it for you.” He takes the tube back from Yuuri and goes rummaging through a drawer in the kitchen. Yuuri hears the sound of a blade scraping against tape and cardboard, and Victor returns a moment later. Victor hands him the tube and then looks at him expectantly. “Well, what’s in it?”

Yuuri tips the open end of the tube into his hand, and a small slip of paper flutters out. “ _Yuuri_ ,” he reads, translating to English for Victor, “ _I think you forgot these when you moved out!_ ” What did he forget?

Oh. It’s a poster tube. He’s going to die of embarrassment.

“What did you forget, Yuuri?” Victor quirks up an eyebrow and slides down onto the couch next to him.

“It’s nothing.” Yuuri stares into the top of Makkachin’s head.

“Yuuuuuri,” Victor pouts, and Yuuri’s sure he must be giving him those irresistible puppy dog eyes, but he’s very pointedly not looking at his face.

Yuuri sighs, resigned to his fate. He shakes the tube, and rolled up posters peek out of the open end. He grabs the roll and tugs the posters out of the tube. “Posters. I forgot my posters. Of you.” He’s still staring into Makkachin’s head. “Um. It’s not like I need them anymore.”

“Oh, can I see, then?”

Yuuri turns to look at Victor, who’s looking at him softly with a genuine smile. Yuuri nods and offers the roll of posters. “But be careful. Some of them are limited edition.” He _squeaks_. Oh god.

Victor chuckles and leans over to kiss him on the cheek. Victor picks the bundle up and rolls the rubber band carefully off the end before unfurling the posters. He leafs through the stack carefully and then pulls out one in particular: he’s about 18 and still had his long hair, and he’s smiling into the camera and hugging Makkachin. “This is one of my favorites. I was actually happy in this one.”

Yuuri feels his throat dry up, and he puts a hand on Victor’s shoulder. “What? What do you mean?”

Victor shrugs. “It was work. Photoshoots, you know, all part of the job.”

Yuuri nods. “Yeah, true.” He’d done a few photoshoots here and there, and he absolutely hated them. “I had these all over my room. I, ah, took them down the day you came to Hasetsu, though.”

Victor smiles, a wistful look in his eyes. “So that’s why you wouldn’t let me into your room.”

“Well, yes, among other reasons, but I didn’t want you to think I was weird.”

“Yuuri, you know that I don’t think you’re weird, right?”

“No, it was definitely a weird thing. You don’t…” Yuuri trails off. Is he really going to admit this? “Nevermind.”

Victor gathers up the posters, leans forward, and places them carefully on the coffee table. He turns to Yuuri and wraps his arms around Yuuri’s waist and nuzzles his neck. “Whatever it is, Yuuri, I don’t mind. I love that you were my fan, because it brought us together.”

Yuuri can feel his heart pounding in his chest, and he wonders if Victor can feel it too, nestled as he is against Yuuri’s neck. Victor’s offering him the safety he needs to confess, meeting him halfway, and Yuuri needs to meet him halfway too. He takes a deep breath and begins. “Even if… even if I used to… get off to them?” Yuuri holds his breath, waiting for Victor to respond.

“Why would that bother me? I’m happy I could help you even before I met you.” Victor lifts his head off Yuuri’s shoulder and kisses him on the cheek.

Yuuri’s eyes flutter shut and he exhales in relief. “Oh, that’s… I was worried you’d be creeped out.”

“Nope, you’ll have to try much harder to creep me out.”

Well. Maybe he should just put it all out there, then. “Okay, well, what if I told you that, um, I used to… watch porn… and there was a guy who looked like you?” He looks at Victor expectantly, waiting for him to untangle himself from Yuuri and freak out.

Instead, Victor simply asks, “Oh, Sergei Delov?”

Yuuri blinks. “Wait, you know about him?”

Victor chuckles into his shoulder. “Yuuri, you are not the first person to compare us. I am well aware of him. Chris had an annoying habit of messaging me his new videos.”

“Oh.” Yuuri sits motionless, stunned by this revelation.

Victor tilts his head, looking up at Yuuri through his eyelashes. “Did you expect me to be more surprised?”

Yuuri still feels bewildered that Victor seems totally unruffled by his admission. “Yes. I’m… This is not what I expected to happen.” 

“Oh?” Victor asks as he nuzzles into Yuuri’s neck. “What did you think would happen, then?” Victor trails kisses under his jaw and along his neck as he awaits a reply.

No, Victor isn’t _unruffled_ ; he actually seems to be _turned on_ by this, and Yuuri tries to reconcile reality with his expectations. “I thought I’d be begging you for forgiveness for my creepiness.”

Victor licks a stripe up his neck. “You could beg me for something else instead.”

Yuuri gasps. This was not at all where he’d expected this to go. “I… yes. But… Makkachin.”

Victor unwraps himself from Yuuri and pats Makkachin on the head. “Down, girl.” She whines, but after a pointed look from Victor, she vacates Yuuri’s lap and sits down next to the couch. Victor looks at Yuuri. “Now, where were we? What did you like about the videos?” He leans in and whispers in Yuuri’s ear. “Did you like watching me get fucked? Did you think about fucking me?”

“Vitya,” Yuuri chokes out. He feels his phone sliding out of his hands and hears it clatter onto the floor. His face feels warm, and he knows he must be blushing furiously. Victor is enjoying this way too much, which would be annoying if it weren’t also incredibly hot.

Victor’s hands find their way under Yuuri’s shirt, and his fingers skim over Yuuri’s stomach, flirting with the waistband of Yuuri’s sweatpants.

Yuuri was quite sure all the spare blood in his body had gone to his face, but now it’s definitely rushing to his dick, which is starting to tent his pants. Victor’s breath, hot and humid, sweeps over his earlobe before his tongue does the same. Yuuri shivers involuntarily, and then Victor’s whispering to him again, voice low and rough. “Tell me what you want, Yuuri.”

Words aren’t Yuuri’s strong suit, to be perfectly honest, so instead he turns his head and captures Victor’s mouth in a kiss. He closes his eyes and savors the feeling of Victor’s soft lips against his own.

Victor pulls away and admonishes him. “You have to  _ tell _ me what you want, you know.”

Yuuri sighs. “I want to kiss you.” And so he does, and it’s soft and slow at first, until he licks into Victor’s mouth moans as Victor returns the kiss with equal fervor until they both have to pull away to catch their breath.

“Your mouth is so…” Yuuri trails off.

“Anything else you want me to do with it?” Victor asks with a knowing look in his eyes.

“Suck me,” Yuuri blurts out before he can stop himself.

“Did you like watching Sergei suck guys off? Did you think about me sucking you off?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Yuuri says, panting as memories of touching himself to that very thought resurface.

Victor reaches for Yuuri’s pants and tugs at the waistband, and Yuuri lifts his hips up so that he can slide his pants down. Victor pulls his pants all the way off and discards them on the floor, leaving Yuuri in his t-shirt, socks, and boxer briefs. “Turn this way,” Victor says while motioning with his hand, and Yuuri rotates so that his back is against the arm of the couch.

Victor palms Yuuri through his underwear, and Yuuri finds himself arching into the touch, desperate for more. “Vitya, please…”

Victor reaches into Yuuri’s underwear and grasps his cock, and Yuuri huffs in relief at the contact. Victor frees his cock from the constraints of the fabric and then pulls his underwear off his hips and off his body. “There we go. So hard for me, Yuuri.”

Yuuri nods, but the situation seems rather unfair. “You too. Take off your clothes. I want to see you.”

Victor hums in agreement and starts shedding his clothes as quickly as he can. Yuuri rips off his socks and t-shirt, and then he’s lying back against the arm of the couch, legs splayed open, waiting for Victor. 

And there he is, his Victor, naked and settling himself on his stomach between Yuuri’s knees, looking up at him through that silver fringe, and Yuuri once again feels his heart racing at the impossible fact that this is somehow his life. The view of Victor’s ass is pretty great too.

Yuuri realizes Victor is waiting for him to demand what he wants, so he twists his fingers into Victor’s hair and nudges him towards his cock, hard against his stomach. He takes a breath and then says, “Suck my cock, Vitya.”

“Mm, with pleasure,” Victor replies. He lips at Yuuri’s shaft, fondling Yuuri’s balls between his fingers. Yuuri shudders, which only seems to encourage Victor on. He wraps his lips around the head of Yuuri’s cock and sucks gently.

“Fuck,” Yuuri spits.

Victor lifts off him. “Tell me about it, Yuuri. Tell me what you used to think about.” And then his mouth is back on Yuuri’s cock, tongue swirling over the head as pleasure thrums through Yuuri’s body.

Oh god, how is Yuuri going to even explain this? Keep it simple, he thinks. “I used to watch all his videos and pretend he was you. The first time I found his videos, I came five times in an hour.”

Victor hums his approval around Yuuri’s dick, and he grasps the base as he starts taking him deeper in his mouth. Yuuri leans up into it, greedy for more of the hot, wet perfection that is Victor Nikiforov’s mouth.

Yuuri continues, words tumbling out of him, somehow, as lust eclipses embarrassment. “I was looking for someone who looked like you because I wanted you so badly, for so long. I—” A breathy moan interrupts the stream of his thoughts as he feels the head of his cock tap the back of Victor’s throat. “Oh, oh, fuck,” he sputters as his fingers tighten in Victor’s hair. “I wanted—I wanted to do everything with you. I thought about you telling me how much you like my dick, about you begging me for it.”

Victor moans around him, and Yuuri looks up to see Victor rolling his hips into the couch. “Don’t… I want to touch you too, after this, please…” Victor nods and stills his hips. Yuuri strokes his hair and then offers a tentative word of praise. “Good.” Victor’s eyelids flutter, and Yuuri’s heart speeds up at the sight. “More, I know you can give me more,” he demands.

Victor complies, and Yuuri watches in awe at the look of concentration on his face, eyes closed as he bobs up and down, swiping his tongue along Yuuri’s dick along the way, as he grips Yuuri’s thigh for leverage. Yuuri’s panting and he can’t stop the occasional breathy moan that escapes his lips. Victor knows exactly how to take him apart, knows all the places where he’s most sensitive, knows just how he likes Victor’s mouth on his dick, and it’s all devastatingly effective. Yuuri feels desperation coiling in his abdomen and loses himself to the feeling of Victor all around him, setting his nerves alight with that clever tongue. He feels like he could float away, and he lets himself drift blissfully until the pleasure coalesces from echoes of the past and from the very insistent present. “Vitya,” he warns as he cants his hips up into Victor’s mouth.

Victor simply swallows him down, and with that, Yuuri tips over the edge and comes in Victor’s mouth, shuddering as his orgasm rolls through him. When it’s over, he blinks himself back to awareness as Victor pulls off him, panting. His cheeks are tinged pink, his hair is plastered to his sweaty forehead, there’s some drool and come lingering at the corners of his mouth, and he’s so beautiful. He places a finger under Victor’s chin and lifts his face upward. “Come here. How do you want it?”

“Your hand is fine. I’m so close, please.” Victor scrambles to rearrange himself, settling his back against Yuuri’s chest and dropping his head back over Yuuri’s shoulder. Yuuri can’t help brushing his hair out of his eyes and pressing a kiss into his neck as he wraps his left arm around Victor’s waist. He squirms impatiently. “Yuuri, _please_ ,” he whines.

Yuuri traces a hand down Victor’s chest, skimming fingers over his stomach before wrapping them around his cock, flushed and leaking. Victor whimpers and moans as Yuuri runs his thumb over the head, spreading his precome around. He jerks Victor, angling his fist so that his thumb swipes against Victor’s most sensitive spot on every upward stroke.

“Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri,” Victor moans, and then he’s coming, spilling all over Yuuri’s hand as Yuuri strokes him through his orgasm. He kisses him along the crook of his neck as Victor trembles in his arms. When he stills, Yuuri releases his cock and wipes the mess on his stomach.

They lie there on the couch, catching their breath, and after a few moments, Yuuri finally speaks. “Wow.”

“Mmm, yeah,” Victor hums in reply. He leans up and kisses Yuuri softly, and Yuuri melts into him.

When Victor pulls away, Yuuri sighs. “I can’t believe I told you about the poster thing.”

Victor smiles. “Well, then I suppose it’s only fair that I tell you that I also ordered a poster of you.”

Yuuri blinks. “Oh.” He’s not sure what to do with this information, so he says the other thing he wanted to say. “And I still can’t believe you actually like that I used to watch porn of a guy who looked like you.”

Victor brings his left hand up to Yuuri’s, still on his waist, and intertwines their fingers. “Well, Yuuri, I also have a confession.” Victor looks up at him, sheepish.

Yuuri blinks in confusion. “Hm?”

“Did you know there’s a Japanese-American porn actor who looks like you?”

Yuuri furrows his brow at Victor, eyeing him suspiciously. “Are you sure he wasn’t just, you know, Asian in general?”

Victor huffs. “I’m  _ very _ sure. Give me your phone.” Yuuri stretches his hand down to the floor to grab his phone and hands it over. Victor takes it and (frankly alarmingly quickly) pulls up the profile of an actor named Shimada Seiho who, okay, actually does look like Yuuri.

And then it clicks. “Are you… are you saying you watched porn of him?”

“Well, I had to do something with myself after the banquet at Sochi.”

Yuuri wants to scream, because all this time he’d felt guilty about masturbating to posters of Victor and porn of a Victor lookalike when Victor himself had done the same for Yuuri. Instead, the absurdity of the situation hits him harder, and he bursts out laughing. “Oh my god.”

“Do you think we could get them to do a shoot together? I know people who know people, probably.” The thoughtful look on Victor’s face seems to indicate that he’s considering this at least half seriously.

“Please, no,” he groans into Victor’s neck. “Although I’m sure some of our fans would have a field day.”

Victor’s face lights up. “Oh, great idea! Think of all the opportunities there!”

“Nooooo,” Yuuri whines, dropping his face into Victor’s shoulder.

“Okay, okay,” Victor relents. “You know I’m teasing.” He tips his face up and kisses Yuuri’s temple. “Let’s go shower. I’m all sticky.”

Yuuri squeezes his arms around Victor, hugging him tight. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Victor lights up. “And then maybe after dinner for round two, I can show you some of Seiho’s videos!”

Yuuri bursts out laughing, and he’s filled with lightness and joy knowing that somehow this ridiculous, beautiful man is his, for real.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Your comments and kudos give me life. Please join me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/her_nerdiness) to scream about YOI 24/7.


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